In and Out.

In and out.
In and out.
We live without thinking we are alive.
We know without observing the present.
Into a world with just a leaf.

Struggling to live, pushing to get by.
What is the point when we don’t know the thoughts of the present?
Stuck in past of a concealed dungeon my angst boils on.
I cannot see the future, but I can feel the heat.

Its burning caress through the veins.

The rays of the sun welcoming us out.

In and out.

In and out.

Filled with the burnt desire of life, we stir the sludge.

Towards a breath of life.

A new air.

A different scope.

Chewing into the green blood that gives us that life.
Baring the mark of the beast.

Confess in me.

Release the inside.

In and out.
In and out.

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